


Red Belt

by sashach



Series: Evanstan by Anie [6]
Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: English translation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7591042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashach/pseuds/sashach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About Chris’ red belt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Belt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anie/gifts).
  * A translation of [Evanstan短篇合集](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6884074) by [Anie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anie/pseuds/Anie). 



> Translator's notes:  
> This translation is not proofread, I apologize for any mistakes. That said, please feel free let me know any grammar or spelling mistakes. Thank you and enjoy.

Sebastian calls Chris in the middle of the night.

Chris is not in New York. He’s in LA for work for the time being, alone in that big house. He’s just finished his shower, making his way to the master bedroom, clad in his bathrobe. The windows in one of the rooms is opened; the coolness of the night brushes against his freshly cleaned skin.

He pulls the robe tighter around him, comes to the door of the bedroom, and hears the ringtone from within. It’s _The Little Mermaid_ ; he’s set that specifically for Sebastian. It’s been quite some time since he last heard the ring tone because he usually picks up the phone immediately when Sebastian calls. This time, he hears the entire melody.

“Hey, Seb,” Chris unlocks the phone, leans against the head of the bed as he greets Sebastian. “How’s your day?”

“You still up?” Sebastian asks quickly; he sounds a little anxious. The background in his phone is a little noisy, at least noisier than where Chris is. Mrs. Stan must be at Sebastian’s apartment, thinks Chris. The loving mother likes making supper for her son.

“Yep,” Chris is in a quiet location. So quiet he can hear the wind rustling outside, moonlight spilling on the lawn, and the gentle breath of plants. “I was waiting for you.”

Sebastian seems relieved and says, “And here I am feeling sorry for interrupting your sleep, but for just one second. It’s not like you didn’t disturb my sleep when you were around… God, what am I talking about? Have you seen what’s on Twitter today?”

“I spent the entire day in meetings, Seb,” Chris rubs the spot between his brows. He changes his position, let the soft mattress supports his weight and lies his head on the pillow. “What happened on Twitter?”

“The whole world is looking for a boyfriend for Captain America,” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “And I’m the first person to bear the brunt. My publicist wants us to lay low for a while and see how it goes.”

“Congrats.” Teases Chris as he raises a brow. “You’re my boyfriend on screen and in real life. How’s that?”

“It’s my honor,” says Sebastian unhappily. “Why does a normal character become gay when I played it?”

Chris chuckles softly. His lowered voice seems to travel into Sebastian’s ears together with the heat of his breath. Sebastian’s ear prickles with heat; red hot. He’s compelled to pick up the remote control and turn down the temperature of the AC.

“Chris falls for Sebastian,” Sebastian hears Chris says, as if sighing. “And Steve falls for Bucky. What’s wrong with that?”

_Everything’s wrong._ Sebastian decides to ignore Chris’ arty farty late night muse. He takes a small piece of apple pie from Mrs. Stan and takes a bite. He gasps at the piping heat of the fillings. Chewing on his apple pie, he asks, “Miss me already? Want me to come over and keep you company?”

“Yes,” Chris’ reply is prompt. He even sounds a little sad. “Can you bring your mother over? Jeez, I miss her apple pie so much! Please don’t tell me you’re eating it right now. I will buy a ticket back to New York immediately.”

“I _am_ eating it,” smirks Sebastian. “And dismiss that idea. Mama is not coming to LA with me. All you’ll get is a travel-worn me, and a frozen apple pie from the fridge. Seriously, am I not enough?”

“You’re enough.” Chris pulls the duvet over himself fretfully. “Remember to bring my Gucci…”

“No, Chris. Don’t even think about it,” Sebastian is decisive. “You can only find that red belt in the closet in my apartment in New York.”

“Don’t be like that, Seb,” says Chris miserably. “That’s my favorite belt. It’s comfortable and nice.”

“Be patient. You’ll be able to spoon a comfortable and nice me when you get back two days later.” Sebastian wipes his lips with a paper napkin, crumples it and throws it into the paper basket. “Go to sleep. Good night.”

Chris is cut off before he can even say anything. He puts his cell phone on the nightstand. His lonely nights are finally coming to an end.

He doesn’t realize, but when he sinks into deep slumber, the corners of his lips are curled up.

Chris has a red Gucci belt. He loves it very much. Throughout the years, he has a lot of things replaced: from the mug for drinking water to a pair of sneakers; from bits and pieces of outfit to a wardrobe full of well-fitting suits. The red belt remains; kept stubbornly by Chris. Not only kept, but also worn quite often.

Sebastian doesn’t like the belt. Not that he hates the color or the design, but rather, he can’t stand Chris wearing it all the time to accessorize his outfits.

“Your outfit is somber, Chris,” Sebastian looks at Chris in the mirror. “Can you not wear that red belt?”

“My assistant says it brings a pop of color to the heavy black.” Chris quirks his brow. He’s holding the red belt against his waist, gesturing.

Sebastian doesn’t want to say anything else. He simply goes to him, takes the belt and throws it on the bed. His other hand picks up a brown-black belt and loops it around Chris’ neck. He tugs the end of the belt slightly, so that Chris lowers his head a little. Sebastian wets his lips with his tongue. They’re almost the same height, he can easily kiss Chris. The latter’s beard scratches his jaws, tickling him a little.

Chris naturally lowers his lashes as he puts his hands on Sebastian’s arms. He can see, from the corner of his eyes, Sebastian’s lashes quivering slightly, like a butterfly fluttering its wings before him.

“This one.” When the kiss end, Sebastian squishes Chris’ face. “Your beard is like Dodger’s. So furry.”

Chris smiles. He takes the belt from Sebastian and, in a slightly uneasy tone, says, “Okay, whatever you say.”

He’s been together with Sebastian for such a long time, so long their publicists are too tired to cover up their relationship. Sebastian’s ticket pouch is filled with plane tickets to LA and Boston. It’s a thick stack when put together with Chris’.

“The agency’s not paying for this,” Sebastian's agent has once said. “We’re not paying for your relationship.”

Sebastian doesn’t care; neither does Chris. They’ve worked together in several movies; portrayed an ambiguous yet earth-shattering love story. Outside the movies, their lives are private as well as regular and humble.

Their clothes get mixed up in the wardrobe; most of them look similar. They can only differentiate which one belongs to whose from whether it fits or not. They usually don’t have time for that; so they’re always found wearing the same outfit. The coincidence is so increasingly high, their PR budget has raised a notch.

 

****

 

Chris has had his fair share of gossips and rumors. His name has been put side by side with actresses for publicity, mentioned in tabloids with a couple of vague sentences to validate their intricate relationships. It’s a routine in the industry which publicists are well-versed in. Usually when Chris and Sebastian have done something or when they have a new movie coming out, their publicists would use that for cover up or promotion.

Chris has always been low key, keeping his silence, letting his publicists handle these things. He never admits or denies anything. When the publicity goals have been achieved, those messy gossips would eventually fade out of the public eyes. Chris Evans is still “single” on the surface.

Sebastian scrolls the news regularly and when he scrolls to Chris’ gossips, he plops his head on Chris’ lap unhappily, holds up his phone and says, “Can you please say something in response? Or else my publicist is gonna ask me to take another pap walk.”

“Response to what?” Chris leans against the couch, ruffling Sebastian’s soft hair, then smooths it with his fingers when Sebastian dodges his touch. “There’s nothing to say since nothing happened at all.”

“You’re an actor, Chris. Have some sense of work ethics.” Sebastian locks his phone. Head resting on Chris’ firm thighs, he doesn’t want to get up. “You can say… you wanna give her a red belt. Oh, that’d be romantic. The media would go apeshit. Next day’s headline would be something like…” Sebastian gesticulates his fingers in the air. “Chris Evans gets creative. Proposes to girlfriend with red Gucci belt.”

Chris grabs Sebastian excited hands in the air, tightens his hold as he curls up the corners of his lips simultaneously with Sebastian’s. He gazes into Sebastian beaming blue eyes, bright and clear in the afternoon light, and says, “You’re right. I can give her the belt so that you can publicly wear the ring I gave you.”

“I just don’t wanna take another pap walk,” sighs Sebastian. “I don’t want my publicist to have me walk the dog early in the morning. You have no idea how sleepy I was.”

“I know,” smiles Chris. “The dog looked more awake than you. You almost walked into the street lights in several pictures.”

“I didn’t even have time for breakfast!” Sebastian rolls in Chris’ lap miserably. “If Margarita hadn’t been kind enough to get me some sandwiches, you would have to pick me up in the streets after I passed out from hunger.”

“I can only wake you up in bed after you passed out from hunger,” Chris raises his brow. “You always throw yourself on me when you come back to sleep after your walk. Can’t even drag you out of bed.”

“Enough.” Sebastian picks up his cell phone once again. More websites have shared the link of the gossip. “Perhaps I can give her the belt on you behalf. It’d be good for your dress sense and her popularity.”

 

****

 

Sebastian feels sleepy easily in the early morning. To make sure he’s punctual, his alarm must be set thirty minutes earlier so that he can wake up on time.

In fact, Chris was responsible for waking Sebastian up at the beginning. But he later found the task tough to execute; a difficult challenge filled with force majeure.

When the alarm went off in the morning, Chris was always the first one to wake up. He would turn off the alarm and nudge the man in his embrace. Sebastian had tons of complaints when it came to embracing. Every night, when they first got together, Chris would hold him so tight as though he was going to knead Sebastian into his body; that didn’t count as an “embrace”. More accurately, he attached himself to Sebastian like a clingy golden retriever, pressing his entire weight on Sebastian.

Chris felt insecure at that time. So was Sebastian. At the early stage of their relationship, they went through a lot of misunderstanding for being suspicious of each other, and a long period of instability in their relationship; fights and silent wars when they were trying to figure out each other. They were more like enemies who owed each other money rather than lovers. Sometimes even the angle of an ashtray on the coffee table would evoke a huge fight between them.

It had been too painful; a bloody stab into the flesh when the initial gash was still healing. It was so different from being just friends. The change of status required their hearts to be intimately interwined; from friends to lovers, they had to remove all their thorns. They began to doubt if they’d made the right decision. They tried to break up, but went back together again. The constant back and forth only made them miserable, that was when they realized the decision to be together wasn’t a mistake; they should be together. The problem lied with their god damn stubbornness and their refusal to compromise.

“You two are like a porcupine in love with a rose,” Scarlett had once said. “Don’t get agitated, Chris. You’re the porcupine. Sebastian’s definitely the rose.”

Chris was always anxious at that time. He was busy balancing work and life, but he was so strung out at work it left him too tired to handle the trivialities of life. Sebastian was always able to detect his emotions and Chris was grateful for that. He never had to hide himself in front of Sebastian; it was useless. All his acting and pretense was like a pompous yet inferior saran wrap, but Sebastian was able to reach inside his heart without difficulties.

One time they had a huge fight. Sebastian decided to leave the apartment and went to a bar with a couple of friend for drinks. Chris called him more than ten times but to no avail. He paced the living room frantically, swallowed some anti-anxiety meds to overcome the staggering fear. His heartbeat slowly returned to normal; the meds kicked in, his throat was so dry he had to drink a glass of water.

Sebastian came home at one forty-five in the morning. He opened the door with his key hurriedly. Chris was lying in the couch, looking sick and pale. The white bottle of anti-anxiety pills was still on the coffee table. Sebastian half-kneeled in front of the couch, held Chris’ hands and asked if he felt better.

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian wiped the cold sweats on Chris’ forehead with a tissue. His voice was low and desperate. “I should have come home earlier.” He knew Chris’ anxiety was a little serious during this period. He blamed himself for being the cause.

Chris took Sebastian’s hands and pulled him into his chest, stabling his breaths against Sebastian’s ear. Throat dry, he asked in a raspy voice, “Sebastian, what else can I do for you?”

“Nothing. You don’t have to do anything,” Sebastian laughed bitterly. “I felt bad the entire night. Chase made me drank more than I should because I was distracted. The bar was too loud, I didn’t hear your call. I came home when I saw the unanswered calls. Look what you’ve done to me.”

They hugged in the quiet living room; like a pair of lovers, reunited after separated in two different places, like travel-worn travelers who’d finally returned to their homeland. Chris said softly, “I met you in my twenties, and now I’m in my thirties. Sebastian, I still love you.”

And they helped each other removed the last thorn on themselves; all the grudges burnt to ashes by warm and long-lasting flames.

Chris and Sebastian finally found the stable security they wanted. And after Sebastian’s numerous emphasis on “don’t hug me so tight in bed I can’t even breathe,” Chris finally learned to hug Sebastian in a more dignified manner when they went to bed.

Chris is a light sleeper. Every morning when the alarm goes off, he would be the first one to wake up and turn it off, then he would nudge at Sebastian to wake him up. Sebastian is always in a state of “blankness”. He would bury himself further into the crumpled sheets, pressing his soft hair against Chris’ chest.

“Seb, time to wake up,” Chris digs his knee into Sebastian’s calf. Sebastian turns as he frowns, the corners of his lips downturned unhappily. In a fuzzy daze, he asks, “What time is it?”

“Six thirty-five,” Chris looks at the alarm. They’ve set the time for six thirty.

“Ten minutes.” Sebastian puts his hand on Chris’ hand that’s on his shoulder, and snuggles his head in Chris’ neck. He’s still drowsy; his words are slurred like sticky maple syrup.

“We have an event at seven forty,” Chris lowers his head to kiss his forehead. So much attachment; he’s unwilling to let go of Sebastian.

“Huh?” Sebastian opens his eyes, blinks blearily and yawns. Then he closes his mouth, his eyelashes spread out evenly. “Gimme ten minutes.”

Chris looks at the man tucked in his chest. Sebastian has licked his lips out of habit when he’s woken up just now, his mouth is moist, suffused with affection.

“Okay, ten minutes.” Chris tightens his embrace and closes his eyes.

The outcome of such indulgence, heedless of the consequences, is a flurry of confusion. They get out of bed hurriedly, heat their breakfast in the microwave and take their showers.

Chris puts on the outfit his assistant has sent earlier. He and Sebastian are attending two different events: Sebastian is going to ComicCon while Chris is going to a product endorsement.

Chris’s outfit is a suit. The belt he puts on comes with a note from his assistant, written caps: “YOU MUST WEAR THIS BELT”.

“Does he hate my red belt so much?” Chris is indignant. “It’s unique.”

“Hurry up, dude,” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Your red belt is reserved for your proposal to Juliet.”

“And will you say yes?” Teases Chris.

“Oh, I’d rather say yes to the belt.” Sebastian grins as he gives Chris a shove. He grabs a couple of t-shirts from the wardrobe, puts one on only to realize it belongs to Chris. He takes it off. “We really should keep our clothes in a separate closet.”

“Makes no difference,” Chris combs his hair and says, “Look at your previous outfits. Skinny jeans, see-through shirts… You look so much normal now.”

“And you call these unappealing t-shirts with different colors normal?” Sebastian throws one on begrudgingly. “My taste in clothes has deteriorated, no thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome,” Chris comes over to stand before Sebastian, a standard doggy face, asking for love. “So can I have a kiss as reward?”

“Go away,” says Sebastian, but he grabs Chris’ collar and pulls him in for a kiss.

Sebastian loves scrolling through Instagram. He goes through the tags later and finds a not-so-comfortable photo set; for him, at least. He’s distracted the entire day and when Chris sees him in the evening, he asks him what happened. Sebastian takes out his cell phone, shows the picture to Chris and asks, “You’re not thinking of fucking me like that, are you?”

Chris’ first reaction to the picture is astonishment, then a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “How did you find the picture, Seb? If you want, I’d tie your hands on the bed gladly. How about the red belt?”

“Shut up,” Sebastian clicks away the picture. “If you’re using the red belt, and I mean _if_ , I’m pretty sure I’ll laugh.”

 

****

 

The joke becomes reality afterward.

Come to think it, it’s Sebastian’s fault for drinking a couple of glasses more. His brain is muddled, thus the stupid idea. Chris uses his red Gucci belt to tie him up and fastens it with a clasp. He’s worried Sebastian’s wrists would get hurt, and loosens it a little. To no avail. When he slams into Sebastian, the brunet grips the sheets his hands; the leather lining of the belt rubs against his wrists, causing a little redness.

Chris turns him over; Sebastian grunts at the change of position. Then Chris kisses him, and Sebastian’s broken breaths melt in the kiss. Sebastian encircles Chris with his tied hands, rubbing his heels against the graceful lines of Chris’ waist muscles.

When Chris releases him, Sebastian has no energy left in his wrists. He lies in bed, breathing heavily. When Chris hugs him, he says, “If I can’t sign any autographs tomorrow, you’re dead.”

“Okay.” Chris plants a light kiss on Sebastian red wrists, caressing them with his fingers. Chuckling softly, he says, “Gimme a call and I’ll go sign them for you.”

“That’d great,” says Sebastian. “When it’s all over the papers, the president’s congratulation message would get to us before we’re fired.”

 

****

 

It’s already early morning when the plane lands in LA. Sebastian has brought Chris’ favorite red belt with him.

He goes straight to Chris’ house from the airport.

When he takes out the keys, he looks at his own hands and suddenly recalls something from the past. He used to like wearing rings; all sorts of rings with different designs. Whether it was an event, or a press conference, even just get togethers with friends, he would wear rings as accessories and think it was cool like that.

Since when did he stop wearing rings?

Probably when his wardrobe is slowly filled up with his and Chris’ clothes. Probably when the articles that he and Chris use daily is found in the apartments of each city. Or it’s just when Chris has given him that ring.

It’s a simple ring, with his initials engraved in the inner side. Chris has an identical one.

And it’s just a simple ring, plain and unadorned, but Sebastian thinks it’s more beautiful than any ring he’s ever worn. He only wants to wear that ring; but he can’t.

_How cool is that._ Sebastian put the ring back into the velvet box when Chris gave him the ring. Chris Evans has given him this ring. It’s literally a world limited edition.

Later, Sebastian stops wearing any ring. He’s transferred his love for them to that one and only ring.

Sebastian puts the apple pie in the fridge, changes into his pajamas and goes to bed. He supposes Chris should be asleep, but Chris is a light sleeper, so all his movements are deliberate and careful. When he lies down next to Chris, he finds him wide awake.

“Did I wake you up?” asks Sebastian.

“You said you’ll be here at this hour, so I didn’t asleep,” Chris pulls Sebastian into his warm embrace; a little tired, but very relaxed. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

****

 

Sebastian is in LA for an event the next day.

It’s almost dawn when he finally falls asleep. His assistant has called him almost sixty times to get hold of him.

“You finally picked up,” his assistant sighs in relieve. “I was about to budge into Chris’ house to pick you up.”

“I’ll be right there.” Sebastian gets up to find something to wear. He’s still befuddled, and grabs whatever he sees. Chris is now up to help him however he could.

When Sebastian goes to the kitchen to find something to eat, Chris has already made a peanut butter sandwich for him.

Sebastian bites the sandwich between his teeth and goes to print the script as requested by his publicist. Just in case.

“I’m leaving,” Sebastian takes the sandwich in his hand and kisses Chris. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” resignedly, Chris watches Sebastian dashes out the door. He licks his lips and tastes peanut butter, complimentary from Sebastian.

Sebastian gets into the car hurriedly and arrives at the event. He takes a napkin from his assistant to wipe off the crumbs and peanut butter around his lips; his publicist is already waiting backstage.

“You’re wearing this?” She looks at him incredulously.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian is confused. “It’s a charity event. For the kids. I don’t wanna be too formal.”

 

****

 

Chris is putting away the clothes Sebastian has brought with him into the closet. Something seems to be missing.

_What is it?_ Chris just can’t remember.

“Look, the dress code is casual,” says Sebastian’s publicist, a little devastated. “But why are you wearing Chris’ belt? You want a message from the White House to congratulate you? Love wins?”

_Oh, shit._ Sebastian looks down. He’s been too sleepy this morning to notice he’s actually wearing Chris’ belt. That infamous red Gucci belt.

His publicist searches frantically for another belt for him and even wants his assistant to take off his belt for Sebastian to wear, but it’s already time for the event; they’ll be behind schedule if they waste any more time.

“Forget it. Just go.” Exhausted, hIs publicist spreads her hands. “I’ll tell the photographers to avoid your belt. You guys give me so much trouble I think I’m gonna take a medical leave.”

It’s a charity event. Not only does it increases Sebastian’s popularity among the little ones, it also leaves a little secret for the children attending the event.

Other than Sebastian, his assistant and his publicist, only the children know Sebastian is wearing a belt that belongs to Chris to the event.

When Sebastian comes home that evening, Chris’ eyes lights up when he sees him. He smiles and says, “Hey, Juliette!”

Although Sebastian greets him by rolling his eyes, the red belt is undoubtedly around Sebastian’s waist. And Chris has already given him the ring. No matter how many gossips Chris is involved in, or how many pap pictures Sebastian has taken, their lover and partner is eventually the same person.

How romantic is that.


End file.
